I don't think one could put dismay with one's aubergines any more poignantly than she has done, especially in her adoption of the comparative frame of reference; and with the season now so advanced upon its evanescent trajectory, who can afford to wait for hot peppers to reach veraison? This is horticultural cruelty at its nakedest imperviousness to aspiration, to say nothing of good works and good will. Nor is this ultimately a matter so much of knowing that somewhere a neighbor is proffering a plusher aubergine, as it is a crisis of underripening, per se, in which the very shade of the fruit proclaims it, never mind its scale. Moan? Rage, rather, against the persistence of tart hues.

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Writing to a colleague in the 1930s, the physicist Wolfgang Pauli confessed, “I have done a terrible thing. I’ve postulated a particle that can not be detected.” Eventually, Pauli won the Nobel Prize for his Exclusion Principle, i.e., all material particles exhibit space-occupying behaviour - and could very well fall within the province of restaurants. I wonder if red mug, blue linen will be that terrible thing, a postulate without a particle - that a gentleman is only that creature whose nourishment occupies no space. But whether that is true, is less urgent to know than where it comes from.

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